


The Good Bye

by elisabethjj



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, But do heed the warnings if you are concerned, But there will also be uplifting moments I promise, Child neglect- briefly, F/M, Illnesses, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor past Peggy/ Bucky, More characters to be added, No Major Character Death, Past Cheating, Past Child Abuse, Post-Betrayal, Terminal Illnesses, Wow this sounds much worse than it is, everybody needs a hug, past Peggy/Steve - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisabethjj/pseuds/elisabethjj
Summary: Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were best friends, until Bucky betrayed Steve in a way that Steve couldn't forgive. That night, Steve moved out, changed his phone number and cut Bucky out of his life.Two years later, Steve receives a letter from Bucky asking him to visit him in hospital. Bucky is dying, and pleads with Steve to adopt his daughter, Allie. Suddenly, the life and the family Steve ran away from is impossible to ignore, and the one thing he doesn't have the luxury of is time. Can he open his heart back up to the best friend who broke it, only to lose him again?*Inspired by Dorothy Koomson's beautiful novel, 'My Best Friend's Girl', which is a fave of mine. In fact, a few of these opening scenes are directly ripped from that (not as in the text has been copied, but the scenes have been very closely replicated). The remainder of this fic diverges from Koomson's story, because this is a Steve/Bucky fic so it has to be structurally different.





	1. 2019: p.s. I miss you

**Author's Note:**

> Title from this passage from 'My Best Friend's Girl':  
> "I just wanted to say goodbye properly, I suppose. I'm pretty sure we won't have had the chance and I wanted to say it. Good. Bye. Not bitter bye, or unhappy bye. _Good_ bye."
> 
> The words of Bucky's note to Steve are also a direct quote from the novel, save for the change of names. I could have changed it, but why mess with perfection.

**2019**

Steve stared at the door to Room 23, Ward B, of the Cardiovascular Centre at Maria Bell Memorial. The flight had been a short one—just over an hour—but every other minute he had wanted to yell at someone to turn the plane around and take him home. When they’d landed at the airport Steve had hesitated in front of the departures board, contemplating paying to exchange his weekend return ticket for the next flight back. God, it was tempting. He could be back in DC before anyone knew the reason why he’d left in the first place. He could head straight over to Sharon’s apartment, apologise for cancelling his own birthday plans and, with the help of a few beers and some epic birthday sex, forget he’d ever considered agreeing to this madness. 

Instead, Steve had thrown his duffel in the back of an Uber and come straight to the hospital, where he’d spent the last ten minutes staring at the door to Bucky’s room. 

Bucky, who had been Steve’s best friend in the world from the day they met at Fresher’s orientation right up until the moment two years ago when Steve walked out of the Brooklyn apartment they’d shared and never looked back. Bucky, who had broken Steve’s heart in every way it was possible for a person to break one. Bucky, who Steve had sworn never to see, speak to or think of again and, for two years, had been brutally successful in at least two of those three vows. 

Steve had a stack of unopened letters two inches thick in the recesses of his sock drawer to prove his determination never to communicate with Bucky again. Every couple of months a new one would drop through his letterbox, taunting his cowardice as he shoved it, unread, to the back of the drawer rather than straight into the bin. For reasons he couldn’t think about, Steve hadn’t been able to bring himself to get rid of Bucky’s letters quite yet. Setting his email to block Bucky’s address was easy, as was blocking him on all social media and changing his cell number. But the letters were unavoidable and once he had them in his hand, with Bucky’s familiar sloping script neatly penned across the front, the sock drawer seemed the best short-term solution. 

In two years, Steve had never opened one of Bucky’s letters. The jaw-clenching anger that rattled through him at the remembrance of his ex-best friend hadn’t lessened with time. Possibly, if Steve thought about it, which he really tried not to do all that much, the feelings of bitterness and resentment had instead grown, made way for as the initial crippling agony of Bucky’s betrayal had slowly eased off into something more liveable with. Until today. 

Bucky hadn’t played fair today. 

The innocuous cream envelope had been well camouflaged within the stack of multi-coloured birthday cards in his post box, and Steve had opened it and skimmed over the message inside before his brain even registered the ‘I’m Sorry’ design on the front cover, where the ‘Happy Birthday’ should be. 

Cursing out loud, Steve had tossed the card across the kitchen, watched it ricochet off the far wall and fall next to his recycling barrel. He’d spent a long moment glaring the card into submission and, eventually, it seemed to acknowledge the sheer malevolence of Steve’s stare and do the decent thing by attempting to blend into the linoleum.

It was Saturday, which meant no work, so Steve’d had the whole day planned out. Opening Bucky’s card and reading that message was just a blip. Steve was moving forward. First he was going to make some kick ass waffles for breakfast and then Sam was going to swing round in about an hour. The two of them would spend the day hiking Sugarloaf Mountain, and then Sharon, Nat and Clint would join them for dinner at Steve’s favourite Peurto Rican place back in the city. It was going to be an awesome 31st birthday.

Steve had made a whole plate full of perfect, golden waffles and taken them out onto his tiny balcony to enjoy in the mid-morning sunshine. He’d managed to choke almost three down, before his stomach revolted and he puked the whole lot back up again into the flower tub Sam’s ma had given him last Easter. The flowers were long dead anyway; it was well documented that Steve couldn’t even keep a shrub alive. He’d rinsed his mouth out with a swig of sweetened white coffee that was somehow still bitter on his tongue. 

Dumping the uneaten pancakes in the trash, Steve had sighed, retrieved the card from the kitchen floor and opened it again. Apparently, he hadn’t imagined the short message Bucky had written there. 

_Steve,_  
_Please don’t ignore this. I need to see you. I’m dying. I’m at the Maria Bell Memorial Hospital, in Albany._  
_Please come._  
_Yours, Bucky p.s. I miss you._

Steve’s fist had closed around the card and squeezed until it was a mangled, pulpy lump in his hand. He’d dropped it in the trash and glanced at his watch. Sam was due in fifteen minutes. He really needed to have a shower and get dressed, quickly. Fuck Bucky and his sneaky, manipulative, totally underhand fake-birthday-cards. He was going to have an awesome afternoon of golf and, later, enough beer and tequila to forget this morning ever happened. This was going to be Steve’s best birthday ever.

‘Can I help you?’ asked a tiny, dark-haired nurse, interrupting Steve’s daze. 

‘What? Sorry, uh,’ Steve started, caught off guard.

The nurse’s face was kind, creasing into a pretty smile as she craned her neck up to take in all six foot two of Steve’s broad frame. She was young, definitely younger than Steve, and one of the most petite women he had ever met. 

‘Are you here to see Bucky?’ 

‘No, um, well, yes,’ Steve stuttered nervously. ‘I am, yes. I just, uh, I just needed a minute.’

The nurse’s reached out to place a tiny hand on his arm. 

‘Sure honey,’ she said, ‘it’s okay. A lot of people get overwhelmed visiting their loved ones in this kind of difficult situation. The important thing is that you’re here.’ Her face dimpled into a sweet smile and Steve felt like the world’s biggest fraud. ‘I’m Kristen, the nurse in charge of Bucky’s care.’

‘Oh. Right. Nice to meet you, Kristen,’ Steve said, finding his manners. ‘I’m Steve,’ he added, as an afterthought. 

Kristen’s grin stretched almost the entire width of her face.

‘I thought you might be,’ she admitted with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Bucky said you were a big guy. Actually, I think the term he used was “Captain Freakin’ America”.’ 

Steve smiled weakly. He didn’t want to think about Bucky talking about him to anyone, much less discussing old nicknames like they were still friends. Like Bucky hadn’t decided to ruin everything between them forever.

‘You know,’ Steve said, when it didn’t look like Kristen was going anywhere, ‘it’s getting late. Bucky’s probably asleep. I should probably check into a hotel and come back in the morning.’ That way he could calm the fuck down and work out if he really wanted to do this after all. 

‘Oh, nonsense,’ Kristen said, brightly, make a shoo-ing motion to indicate Steve should open the door. ‘Bucky will be thrilled to see you, honey. Visiting’s over in thirty minutes anyway so you won’t be putting off his beauty sleep for long.’ 

With that, Steve found himself ushered through the doorway into a small room steeped in evening shadow. 

The man on the bed opened his eyes and smiled as Steve shuffled awkwardly into the room.

‘Finally,’ Bucky said. ‘I thought you were going to stand out there all night.’


	2. 2019: It's my heart

Bucky was lying on top of the covers, almost upright against a mountain of crisp, white pillows. He was wearing soft-looking pajama pants and a Jon Vervatos crew neck sweater that Steve recognised as one of his old favourites. For no justifiable reason, that really pissed Steve off. In all their years of friendship, he’d never seen Bucky rocking anything less than a mid-designer label. Even now, at what had to be a contender for Bucky’s lowest point, the man looked like a stylist had decked him out in loungewear-chic. 

At one time, Steve would have teased Bucky for it, probably had Bucky grinning that adorable smile of his and telling Steve to fuck off and stop being so jealous of his superior fashion sense. But Steve couldn’t do that now. Things had changed since the last time he’d seen Bucky. 

Of course, that last time, Bucky had his hands pressed to the crown of his head, fingers threading through his hair so tightly he might have pulled a few tufts clean out, all puffy-eyed with unshed tears and saying over and over how sorry he was, begging Steve to stay. Steve had been throwing random items haphazardly into a suitcase and storming out of the front door, trying not to listen to the meaningless words tumbling out of Bucky’s mouth, and just praying he would make it into the taxicab before he collapsed in an angry, sobbing mess. 

After parting on those kinds of terms, it’s difficult to know what to say. ‘Hi’ feels somewhat underwhelming and ‘I spent a lot of nights wishing you’d die a horrible painful death’ seems a bit too on the nose, all things considered. 

Designer togs aside, it was hard to reconcile the man in this hospital room with the Bucky that Steve had known. 

Bucky was always an athletic guy: broad shoulders and a muscular chest, a flat stomach and strong, toned legs. Steve could recall the exact shade of his ex-best friend’s hair: rich, warm brown with a hint of coppery spice, soft to the touch and just long enough to curl damply at the base of his neck when he’d been out running. A strong jaw, a smattering of freckles and full lips guaranteed to make every straight girl or gay guy within a five-mile radius drool. Most of all, no matter how much he’d tried, Steve had never been able to forget Bucky’s eyes. A pale, piercing blue, framed by ridiculously long eyelashes—that Steve had regularly taunted Bucky over the girlishness thereof—and adorned with tiny grey flecks that sure seemed to invite a lot of staring over the years.

That Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

The man lying in the hospital bed was thinner, weaker looking than Bucky should be. His freckles were too dark against chalky pale skin, eyes underscored with purpling shadows. Even his hair looked wrong; the colour a tone off, the length a little unkempt.

He looked frightening frail; a shadow of the man Steve used to call his best friend. 

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Steve asked, and then cringed at the blunt question. 

Bucky laughed, a soft huff of breath, and Steve noticed that his eyes still sparkled when he was amused. 

‘Trust you, Stevie,’ Bucky said. ‘Only person with the balls to walk in and just ask me straight up like that.’ 

Steve nearly started to smile back in automatic response, remembered he hated Bucky, and carefully schooled his features back to what he hoped was something in the region of neutral. 

Bucky watched him and sighed.

‘It’s my heart.’

A thousand spiteful quips were on the tip of Steve’s tongue, but somehow it wasn’t an effort to swallow them back down when Bucky was in front of him looking like he did. Bucky paused for a moment with a defensive jut to his chin, as if he knew exactly what Steve was thinking, and he seemed almost surprised when Steve didn’t go for the punchline.

‘My heart is failing, Steve. I… I’ve been sick for a while. Really sick. The doctors, they say it’s not gonna be long now. Maybe a few months, or. Or less, even.’

Steve blinked, struggling to readjust to this new reality. The bedside lamp cast a yellow glow over Bucky’s face, but barely reached the chair by the window. Steve was grateful for the shadowy cool as he dropped into the mealy cushions there. Someone had placed a throw blanket on one of the arms, he guessed for anyone who might be sleeping in the chair, but it was still perfectly folded into its creases.

A vase of fading, long-stemmed flowers stood on the chest of drawers, next to a fruit basket that was still in its cellophane wrapping. 

‘How long have you been here?’ Steve asked.

‘A few weeks,’ Bucky shrugged, a clumsy movement that seemed to cost him too much energy. 

‘Why here?’

Last Steve was aware, Bucky still lived in Brooklyn, easily 150 plus miles away from this nondescript hospital room in Albany. 

‘I got transferred over here for my surgery. The heart team is supposed to be one of the best in the country,’ Bucky was explaining. He smiled ruefully, rubbing his hand on the stubble of his chin. ‘My dad… well, y’know what he’s like, man. Nothing but the best for George Barnes’s son.’ Bucky’s tone was on the tired side of scornful, but then, Steve knew how many years of his dad’s coldness and rejection Bucky had endured. 

‘And, well… I was staying in Syracuse anyway, since I got too sick to work. Dad and Olivia still have the house there, and… To be honest, I didn’t have a choice really.’ 

‘So, your pa’s—’ Steve started, but Bucky cut him off.

‘Nah, man. Saw him once, the week they moved me here, stopped in for half an hour or so. I guess he had business over this way.’ 

‘Your dad’s a douche.’ 

It was hardly the first time Steve had said it, but usually—before—he and Bucky could laugh about it together, try to erase some of the hurt that George Barnes inflicted on his son. 

Bucky laughed humourlessly. 

‘Yeah, well, he’s paid for the best treatment here, so.’

The silence as he trailed off quickly became awkward, and Steve shifted his feet restlessly. He could feel Bucky’s eyes on him, trying to catch his gaze, but Steve couldn’t bear to meet it. 

‘Well good,’ he said, to the worn patch on the knee of his jean, instead. ‘I’m… That’s good.’

‘Hmm. You gonna look at me, here, Stevie?’

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and thought real hard about getting up out of this chair, leaving the hospital and Bucky far behind him, once again. Despite everything, this—Bucky all milk-pale and fading away in some antiseptic smelling hospital—was unbearable. Steve didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to deal with this, didn’t want to fucking look at Bucky. 

Except, he couldn’t really pretend that this was the same world he’d woken up to this morning. 

Steve couldn’t forgive Bucky, but he was here, wasn’t he? He’d left his own birthday celebrations to get on the next available flight, come straight here without passing go or collecting fuck all. He hadn’t done that to sit here being too chicken shit to make eye contact with the guy, right?

Steve raised his head and looked right at his ex-best friend. Steve tried not to flinch at the unconcealed mess of pain, sympathy and guilt shining out of those stupid green eyes. 

‘It’s Steve, not Stevie,’ he finally said, somewhat pathetically, and took perverse enjoyment from the small flinch Bucky made. 

‘Sorry, I,’ Bucky snapped his jaw shut. ‘Yeah, okay. Steve.’ His eyes flickered back up to meet Steve’s gaze again, and he opened his mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by the snick of the door opening.

Kristen pushed a meds trolley into the room. She smiled when she saw Steve slouched in the chair, a warm, genuine smile that lit up her eyes as well. 

‘Bucky Barnes, you’ve been holding out on me,’ she declared, in a voice that seemed too big for the tiny thing she was. ‘You didn’t mention your friend was such a hottie.’

Automatically, Steve got to his feet and the nurse laughed as he towered over her petite frame comically. 

‘Okay, show-off,’ she murmured, then flashed a grin at Bucky, who hurried to make the introductions. 

‘Steve, this is Kristen-’

‘Or “the luckiest nurse at Maria Bell” as I’m known by my colleagues,’ Kristen interrupted him. She winked at Bucky, who rolled his eyes at her. ‘And you can skip the introductions, Bucky. Steve and I go way back.’

Steve could hardly help smiling at Kristen’s easygoing manner and sweetness. When Bucky looked over, he seemed pleased.

‘Oh, really?’ he said. ‘So, then, Steve, you already know that Kristen’s been taking real good care of me these past few weeks.’ 

‘Not really a chore, honey,’ Kristen said, efficiently dishing out what Steve supposed were Bucky’s evening meds and plumping up the pillows behind Bucky’s back. 

‘Oh, sure, looking after my sick ass must be such a joy.’

‘You kidding? Your gorgeous face is the highlight of my day,’ Kristen told him. ‘Plus, now you’re bringing me extra eye candy? Way to get on the nurse’s good side, mister.’ She grinned good naturedly at Steve, letting him know her flirting was light-hearted. 

‘Nothing but the best for you, Kristen,’ Bucky said, and something about the way his eyes lingered on Steve heated the moment, made the compliment behind his words hang heavy in the air. 

Shaking it off, Steve watched Kristen fiddle with some switches on the machines at Bucky’s bedside, pour Bucky some cold water and slip what looked like a trashy romance paperback under this month’s GQ, while Bucky’s attention was elsewhere. She seemed nice. Her chatter was endless as she fussed around Bucky and she was bubbly, obviously intelligent, very kind. Exactly the person you’d want taking care of someone you loved, if they were ill. If they were in pain, or scared, or just alone.

When Kristen had bustled back out of the room, Steve didn’t sit back down. Bucky looked at him, rolled his eyes, and leaned back against his pillows.

‘I really am alright, you know, Steve.’

‘You said you’re dying.'

‘Yes,’ Bucky nodded, ‘well, sure, there’s that. But, I mean, I’m okay with it.’

Steve snorted, rudely.

‘Well, you always were a dumbass,’ he bit out. He was still trying to wrap his head around how MMA-loving, gym-going, yoga-obsessed (okay occasional cheeseburger eating, but generally healthy) thirty-two year old Bucky could be dying of heart failure. It was maddening that Bucky seemed so calm about the whole thing. ‘There must be something they can do.’

‘No, Steve, there isn’t. The surgery I mentioned? Probably bought me an extra few months.’

‘I can’t believe that. What about a heart transplant?’

Bucky smiled sadly. Steve wanted to smack him.

‘That’s what I said, when they told me. I’m on the list, Steve, but… I’m a pretty rare blood type, and hearts don’t exactly become available often.’

Steve perked up, grabbing at that sliver of hope like it was the last ice cube in a Texan summer. 

‘But you could get one.’ 

‘Steve, I won’t. There’s, like, a less than two per cent chance of a compatible organ becoming available in the timeframe and, even then, the odds of not rejecting the heart…’

‘But you could-’

‘No. Steve, stop. I’ve come to terms with this. I know it’s… I’m sorry you’ve just had this all dumped on you, but I’ve been through all of this for the past six months. I’ve screamed, and I’ve been scared, and I’ve thrown my fucking toys out of my pram, but I’ve made peace with it now. I’ve had to. There are bigger considerations, things I’ve had to sort out. I’m not the important person to think about here.’

Allie, he meant. Bucky was talking about his daughter, Allie. 

God, Steve reeled at the thought. If Steve, who had been determined to live his life never seeing Bucky again anyway, was taking the news of Bucky’s illness this badly, how was his smart little five-year-old daughter coping?

Steve’s eyes unwittingly flitted to the only photo decorating Bucky’s bedside table, the one he’d been ignoring since he walked into the room. Not difficult to do, since the frame—a ridiculous sea shell extravaganza Steve remembered buying Bucky when they were on Spring Break in Miami one year—was angled almost totally towards the bed so Bucky could see it all the time. The cutest kid in the freaking universe grinned up at the camera. Allie in the photo was bigger than when Steve had last seen her, but those were the same huge green eyes he had fallen in love with when she was small enough to hold in one of Steve’s hands. Those adorable dark curls still tumbled round her face, accentuating her rosy cheeks and the gorgeous freckles strewn across her nose. It twisted Steve’s heart painfully to see the kid again, even in a picture. 

Bucky tracked Steve’s line of sight and smiled fondly. 

‘I guess you know why I asked you to come here,’ he said, and Steve’s attention snapped back to him.

‘I thought it was just to try and make me feel guilty for ignoring you the past two years.’

‘Apart from that,’ Bucky agreed, a tiny smirk twisting the corner of his mouth.

‘There’s more?’

Something about Bucky’s eyes wiped the tight, sarcastic smile off Steve’s face. 

‘Steve,’ Bucky said. ‘After I’m gone, I need you to adopt Allie.’


	3. 2014: Bucky's daughter

**2015**

‘Do you want me to get that?’ Steve called out when the doorbell rang for the second time and Bucky still didn’t appear from inside his bedroom. 

Steve walked over and leaned against the wall next to the closed door. ‘Buck? Come on, talk to me.’ He rapped his knuckles on the door repeatedly until it opened slightly and Bucky appeared in the gap. He looked like he was about to throw up.

‘Pal,’ Steve said. ‘Are you okay?’

Bucky gulped and looked at Steve, wild eyed.

‘I’m not… I’m not sure I can do this, Steve.’ He wiped sweaty palms on his clean jeans; a very un-Bucky like move. ‘What if I fuck it up?’

‘Well,’ Steve said, considering. ‘I’m not sure you have a choice. Either way, you won’t know anything until you open the door.’

‘I’m serious, Stevie.’

‘I know,’ Steve said, smiling. ‘Look, I know this is huge, Bucky. This is, like, the biggest thing ever to happen to you. Thing is, I know you’re gonna rock at being a dad.’ Bucky started to protest, but Steve cut him off with a firm hand on the shoulder. 

‘Dude, I was a fucking mess when Peggy left me,’ he pointed out. ‘Hell, it’s been six months and I still have a mental breakdown if I catch a whiff of anything wedding-related.’

Bucky shook his head. 

‘Hey, c’mon, Stevie, you’re doing really well-’

‘Yeah, I am, because of you, Buck. That’s my point, pal. You let me crash in your spare room for months until I got myself together enough to sell Peg’s and my place and rent a new apartment. You practically hand-fed me that first week, not to mention I’d probably have lost my job if it wasn’t for you.’

‘No way,’ Bucky said. ‘SHIELD would never fire you. You’re an amazing writer.’

‘I wasn’t actually writing, so much as crying like a little kid and lying on your couch for six or seven hours a day,’ Steve pointed out calmly, because he could now, finally. ‘Bucky, you saved me. You didn’t let me go under.’

Bucky shifted uncomfortably at the praise, blush high on his cheeks.

‘You’d do the same for me,’ he said, finally. ‘You’re my best friend, Steve.’ 

‘Yeah, well,’ Steve said, brightly, ‘if you can deal with a giant kid like me, heartbroken and completely unable to look after myself for all that time, what trouble could you possibly have with a tiny weeny baby?’ 

Bucky rolled his eyes.

‘I don’t think that’s how it works,’ he said. ‘They’re not, like, a difficulty level in proportion to their size.’ 

‘See, you already sound like you know what you’re talking about,’ Steve said, and Bucky’s mouth relaxed into the familiar lazy smile that likely played a big part in getting him into this situation in the first place. A smiling Bucky was, in Steve’s experience, pretty much irresistible to humankind on mass. 

‘I’m just glad you’re here,’ Bucky said, which was rich considering how vociferously he’d protested Steve coming over in the first place. Steve, perplexed at his best friend’s uncharacteristic desire to go it alone, had to really put his foot down and insist on being here for Bucky today before Bucky had eventually caved. 

‘I knew it,’ Steve crowed, smug as anything. Then, he tugged Bucky into the hallway. ‘So, are you going to let that poor girl in from the blistering heat, or what?’ 

When Angie Martinelli stepped into Bucky’s home, Steve’s first thought was that she wasn’t Bucky’s type. In and of itself that was an odd thought to have, since Bucky didn’t exactly have a type. Bucky was, in fact, pretty much an equal opportunities kind of guy: curvy blondes, willowy brunettes, petite redheads, even the occasional muscle-bound male, had all passed through Bucky’s bed in the time Steve had known him. Granted, few made it to date number two, but it was clear that Bucky appreciated variety. Or, on Steve’s reading, he just really liked sex. 

Angie was beautiful, no doubt about it; glossy dark hair falling halfway down her back, knowing eyes and fine, delicate bone structure. Her slim, athletic figure did nothing to detract from the impression of elegant femininity. There was no reason Steve could really think of why Bucky wouldn’t have been attracted to Angie, and yet… it just seemed off. Angie didn’t look at Bucky the way Steve expected her to. 

Of course, maybe it was just that Bucky’s girlfriends didn’t usually have a baby in their arms. Bucky’s baby. 

Steve had to remind himself that Angie wasn’t just the girl that Bucky had met at a party last year and, apparently, spent a particularly bendy night with. She was the mother of Bucky’s child.

That Bucky had been made aware of his daughter’s existence less than two weeks ago didn’t change that fact. All things considered, Bucky was dealing with this undoubtedly life altering revelation pretty damn well. Steve was proud that his best friend had never considered saying no when asked if he wanted to claim and raise the daughter he’d inadvertently made in a drunken one night stand. Then again, Steve knew Bucky too well to expect anything else; with all that Bucky suffered by his own father resenting his presence after Bucky’s ma died of post-natal complications, Bucky would never reject a child of his own. 

Steve swallowed hard as he watched Angie pass the tiny, red-faced infant carefully into Bucky’s arms. In that first moment when Bucky held his daughter, Steve saw the man’s face, and he saw the instant that Bucky changed forever. It was love at first sight; Bucky Barnes was a papa. 

Steve could hardly believe that Angie didn’t want the gorgeous baby girl in Bucky’s arms. God knew Steve wasn’t looking to have children anytime soon, any more than Bucky had been before the accidental condom malfunction. When he was engaged to Peggy, Steve had assumed they’d have children one day, but between Peg’s intense focus on her veterinary career and Steve’s laid-back attitude to taking life one day at a time, children weren’t something that was on his radar yet. Even less so, since Peggy left him high and dry, without anything approaching a decent explanation, six weeks before their wedding was supposed to take place. 

Still, even Steve couldn’t resist the precious little girl Angie was preparing never to see again. This child was Bucky’s daughter, and the second Steve laid eyes on her he made up his mind to be the best uncle she could ever ask for. He was smitten even before he reached out one finger to stroke the baby’s chubby crazy-soft cheek, as she slept in Bucky’s careful hold. Right now, she looked a bit like a squashed playdough experiment, and yet, she somehow looked like Bucky already. No, Steve didn’t understand for a minute how Angie could give this up. 

Bucky looked up at Steve, and his eyes were shining wet.

‘God, Stevie,’ he breathed out, ‘have you ever seen anything more beautiful?’, and Steve hadn’t. He glanced over to Angie, who was shifting her purse strap as if she was about to leave, even as her gaze lingered on the baby’s face. He realised he was selfishly grateful that Angie didn’t want to be a mother. It meant that she would go today, and they would never hear from her again. 

Since Peggy had left, Steve and Bucky had found a new balance, readjusting their friendship as they had done when Peggy had first become part of Steve’s life. Not that their relationship had suffered with Peggy around, but they’d had to make room for a third musketeer. Peggy had fit into their lives so well, loving Bucky nearly as much as Steve did, and it had worked. Now, with Angie standing here, Steve realised he wasn’t ready to let anybody else in, not yet anyway. If Angie had wanted to keep the baby, she would have been part of Bucky’s life, and therefore Steve’s life, in a big way. Who knew what might happen in the future, but right now Steve was convinced that Bucky didn’t need Angie to raise this baby, not when he would have Steve’s friendship and support every step of the way. 

‘Do you know what you’re going to call her?’ Angie asked, already halfway out the door. 

Bucky looked up, startling as if he’d forgotten she was there. An odd expression flitted across his face as he met Angie’s gaze, and Steve thought it looked strangely like guilt. Then the moment passed.

‘Allison,’ Bucky said, already re-focused completely on his daughter. ‘It was my mother’s name.’ He lowered himself slowly onto the sofa and rocked Allison in a gently, soothing motion. ‘What do you reckon, Stevie?’ he asked, without looking up. ‘Does she look like an Allie?’

‘Definitely,’ Steve said, dumbstruck with the beauty of the moment.

‘Hey,’ Bucky said, glancing up at his friend. ‘You’re staying here for a few days, right? I mean, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing here. You’ve gotta help me.’ Steve made a face and pretended to consider, while Bucky narrowed his eyes and lowered his face close to his daughter’s. ‘Allie, tell your Uncle Steve he has to stay with us.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Steve said, and meant it.


	4. 2019: Parent material

2019

In the wake of Bucky’s startling announcement that he wanted Steve to adopt his only child after his death, there was possibly a full five minutes of shocked silence in the room. Steve thought it might have been the longest he’d ever gone in the presence of another human being without talking in his whole life.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Steve finally asked.

Bucky sighed and rubbed tiredly at his forehead.

‘No, Steve, I’m not kidding,’ he said, and of course he wasn’t. Bucky didn’t joke when it came to Allie. She was the most important thing in his world. 

‘We haven’t spoken for two years—’ Steve started, but was cut off by Bucky’s incredulous laugh.

‘What the fuck has that got to do with anything? In a few months’ time I’m not gonna be here, Stevie. Apart from me, you’re the only parent Allie’s ever known.’

‘I was never her parent,’ Steve objected.

‘No?’ Bucky countered. ‘You washed her, fed her, sang really out of tune nursery rhymes to her ‘til she went to sleep. Had baby vomit in your hair more times than I can remember. Came with me to her nurse appointments. Picked her up from playgroup. Taught her the alphabet, and colours, and did baby sign language with her and-’

‘And then I left,’ Steve said. ‘And whose fault was that?’

Bucky visibly winced, but kept his calm. Steve knew he wouldn’t back down when it came to Allie.

‘Mine,’ Bucky said. ‘My fault, I know that. Steve, God, I-’

‘No,’ Steve interrupted him. ‘I don’t want to talk about that.’

‘But, if you’ll just let me-’

‘No,’ Steve said. ‘Don’t. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, don’t you get it?’ Bucky huffed and shook his head, looking ten kinds of miserable. Steve didn’t particularly care. ‘I can’t believe that after everything, you have the nerve to ask this of me.’

‘Jesus, Steve. Of course I’m gonna ask you. She’s my little girl, I don’t want to leave her all alone. This is Allie, man. I know you hate me right now, but you love her, I know you do.’

Steve slumped back down in the chair and steepled his fingers in front of his nose. It was a low blow from Bucky. Of course Steve loved Allie, and Bucky knew he couldn’t deny it. Leaving her behind when he’d moved to New York was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, and he missed the little girl all the time. He sent her ridiculously extravagant presents throughout the year, to try and subdue some of the guilt he felt at leaving her behind the way he had. 

That didn’t mean he could just adopt her though. Even setting aside his less than healthy feelings for Allie’s father, there were other considerations. Steve had a life in New York now.

‘I live in DC,’ Steve said, deciding to ignore Bucky’s last challenge. ‘My apartment’s on the fifth floor and the elevator only works half the time. I have a full-time job.’

‘So take her to DC,’ Bucky said, patiently, although the slight crack in his voice was painfully obvious. ‘She’s five now, she’ll be in school most of the day. You know it’s just me and her in Brooklyn. She’ll have no ties to there, when I’m… gone.’

Steve’s heart twisted painfully and he cursed his traitorous emotions. He wasn’t ready to start caring for Bucky again, but this was all happening so fast and his brain apparently couldn’t get on board with Bucky actually dying. 

‘Don’t,’ he said softly, closing his eyes. ‘I’m not there yet, Bucky.’ 

‘Well you’d better get there fast,’ Bucky said, though his soft tone of voice belied the gruff words. ‘Allie needs you to.’

‘Bucky, I’m trying to say… I can’t have a child,’ Steve said. Bucky used to know him better than anyone and, truthfully, the basics were still the same. He couldn’t keep a potted plant alive for Christ’s sake. ‘You know I’m not parent material. I don’t want to have children yet, especially not by myself.’

‘I’m not asking you to have children,’ Bucky said, indignantly. ‘I’m asking you to have my child. I’m asking you to have Allie.’ His jaw set in a determined line. ‘There’ll be money, Steve. I mean, you know I have money. You wouldn’t have to worry about… You could buy a house. Childcare wouldn’t be an issue, after school or whatever.’ 

‘Christ, Buck, it’s not about the money.’ Steve knew that Bucky had inherited a small fortune from his mother when she passed away all those years ago. 

‘I know,’ Bucky said. ‘I’m just trying to cover the practicalities here.’ He smiled hesitantly at Steve, looking somehow smaller than before, like the conversation had really taken it out of him. ‘Look, just think about it, will you promise me that? Please?’

Steve shook his head and spread his huge hands in surrender.

‘Sure,’ he agreed, unable to do anything else to the face that had meant comfort, warmth and love for most of his adult life. ‘I’ll think about it.’ 

Bucky nodded, satisfied for now, and a tense silence fell once more between them. Steve toyed with the frayed cuff of his hoodie, and snuck the occasional glance at Bucky, who kept opening and shutting his mouth like he couldn’t work out how to say something. When he opened his mouth for the fourth time, Steve jumped in to pre-empt what looked to be that conversation again. Steve was no more interested in hearing Bucky’s explanations or apologies then he had been the day he first learned of his betrayal. 

‘Where is Allie now?’ Steve asked, trusting the topic to distract Bucky sufficiently. Where Bucky went, Allie was never far behind, and if Bucky had been at Maria Bell Memorial for several weeks already then that was undoubtedly the most nights they had ever spent apart. Steve wondered which one of Bucky’s admittedly small circle of friends had the tiny terror staying with them.

‘With Dad and Olivia,’ Bucky said, shooting a glance at Steve. There was an audible snort of derision that Steve tried to smother but failed.

‘Uh-huh, and how’s that working out?’ 

Bucky looked wretched, and Steve knew very well why. It was no secret that Bucky didn’t have a very good relationship with his father and stepmother. What was unknown to anyone except Steve was Mr Barnes’ proclivity for using belts, hairbrushes and sometimes lit cigars to enforce his strict disciplinarian codes when Bucky was a child. 

‘I... Not good. I haven’t seen her since I was transferred over here.’

‘There must be someone else she can stay with. A friend?’

‘No,’ Bucky said, softly. ‘My friend Pietro babysits for Allie sometimes, but he’s an air steward so he’s away a lot. I wrote to you when I was first admitted to hospital, but…’

Steve laughs, low and bitter.

‘I never opened any of them.’

‘Yeah, I guessed that,’ Bucky said, quietly. 

‘What about the guys? Morita, Gabe, Dum Dum?’ Bucky had never been one for a big circle of close friends, but before Steve had left those guys had been part of their regular set, and three of the only people in the world apart from Steve himself that he would have called Bucky’s friends. A long while before he had Allie, Bucky had even shared an apartment with Gabe, and for years before Steve left Friday night poker games and cookouts with the guys were a given whenever they were in town. 

‘Nah, pal,’ Bucky said, picking at his bedspread. ‘They aren’t really around, these days. The band’s doing really well. You haven’t spoken to any of them recently?’ No, Steve had not. Like anything else pertaining to his life in Brooklyn, he’d completely severed their old friends from his life. It was just easier than admitting the humiliating truth behind his abrupt departure. Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve’s non-committal shrug. ‘Dernier finally booked them a proper tour. They’re all in LA at the moment.’

‘You haven’t told them…’

‘This might be their big break, man. Don’t wanna fuck things up for them.’ 

Oh sure, Steve thought. That was just like Bucky. He wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone with his imminent death. Except Steve, obviously, but what was a little inconvenience after everything else Bucky had already put him through. 

‘Do you want me to visit her?’

Bucky perked right up at that.

‘Would you?’ 

‘Sure,’ Steve said, although the thought of another three-hour journey to get to Syracuse was less than appealing right now. ‘I’ll go see how the little munchkin’s getting along. Just to check on her, though. I’m not saying I’m agreeing to your insane plan.’ 

‘Fair enough,’ Bucky said, and now he looked happier than he had since Steve had arrived. ‘Thank you, Steve. You don’t know what this means to me.’

‘Of course I do,’ Steve snorted. ‘It’s Allie. You’re probably not sleeping enough to get any better at all if you’re worried about her.’ Bucky only grinned at him. 

‘Give her my love and a big kiss from me.’

‘Sure,’ Steve said softly, as he stood. He glanced at the door, then back at Bucky on his bed. Since he’d been here, he hadn’t touched Bucky. He didn’t want to now, either. He somehow knew that would make everything too real, too painful. Yet, for all he hated being forced to confront Bucky after all this time, he was strangely reluctant to leave him now. Not when Bucky was looking so pale and drawn, a machine beating out the nebulous rhythm of his lifeline like it might disappear any moment.

‘Hey,’ Bucky said, gently, with the same understanding that had always allowed him to see right through Steve to his shirt tags. ‘I’ll still be here when you get back.’

‘I know,’ Steve said a bit too defensively, and Bucky worried his lower lip in a way that had no right to be quite as distracting as it was. 

‘So… you will come back, then?’ The nervous question in Bucky’s voice nearly killed Steve, because it wasn’t his job anymore to give Bucky comfort. Bucky gave up that any right to expect that long ago.

Nonetheless, he found himself saying, ‘Yes,’ with more honesty than he’d shown anyone for a while, and when he passed by Bucky’s bedside he made sure his fingers brushed ever so gently over Bucky’s hand, even as his eyes never left the doorway. He carefully ignored the hitch of Bucky’s breath and didn’t look back. 

Steve almost made it back to the reception before Kristen appeared in front of him. His head was a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions, most of them unpleasant and all of them overwhelming. 

‘Steve,’ she said, tiny face as relaxed as his was strained. ‘Look, it probably isn’t my place, but are you coming to visit Bucky again?’

‘Uh, yeah,’ Steve said carefully. He was exhausted, he had a three hour drive ahead of him and he wanted to get out of this hospital, but the nurse obviously had something to say. ‘I’ve got to go and get a progress report on Allie, Bucky’s kid, but I’ll be back tomorrow evening.’ 

‘You’re going to Syracuse?’ Kristen asked, sounding surprised.

‘Yes.’ Steve was amazed that Bucky ‘play-it-close-to-the-chest’ Barnes had told his nurse anything about his life, let alone about his family, and it must have shown on his face because Kristen smiled knowingly at him.

‘You’d be surprised what patients share with us nurses,’ she said, in response to the unasked question. ‘Bucky needs someone to worry out loud to about his daughter, and, well, you’re the first person to visit him since he’s been here.’

It was like a punch to Steve’s gut. As much as he hated being forced back into Bucky’s life like this, he couldn’t stand the thought of Bucky being there all alone, knowing he was dying. It made him feel cold and angry inside and he wondered what he would have done, had he opened one of Bucky’s letters a few weeks earlier.

When he gathered himself again, Kristen had a soothing hand on his arm.

‘It’s okay, Steve,’ she said. ‘Bucky said you’d come as soon as you could. He’s talked a lot about your work. I know he’s real proud of what you’re doing.’ 

Steve… didn’t know what to do with that information, so settled for an uncomfortable noise in response. It was news to him that Bucky even knew anything about his life since he’d left.

Look,’ she said briskly, changing the subject, probably just before Steve beat Bucky to it by choking himself to death on misery. ‘You flew in, right?’ Kristen gestured to the duffel clutched in Steve’s hand. ‘It’s a pain in the ass to sort out a rental at this time of evening. Why don’t you take my Jeep? It’s in the staff parking lot.’

Suddenly a set of car keys were thrust in Steve’s face and he blinked at them.

‘God, no, I couldn’t-’ he began to protest, but Kristen was having none of it.

‘Nonsense,’ she said, grinning easily up at him. ‘My roommate’s an anaesthesiologist here and we’re both on a late shift tomorrow, so she’ll drive us both in anyway. And you’ll be back by then, right?’

‘Right,’ Steve said, looking confused, ‘but, it’s just, you hardly know me.’

‘I know plenty about you Steve Rogers,’ Kristen said. ‘The amount Bucky talks about you, we’re practically family.’ She winked at him. ‘Go on now; you’ve got a long drive ahead of you.’

So Steve went.


	5. Bucky - one

**Bucky**

_Steve and I were always very different people._

_Everything about Steve is larger than life. It used to scare me, when I first knew him. He was this loud, confident person full of laughter and happiness. He was so sure of his place in life. When I met his family, it explained so much about Steve. I guess that’s true of most of us._

_People have always gravitated to Steve. When we were at college, he had so many friends our dorm room was like Times Square at rush hour. Don’t get me wrong, I had friends too. I get along with people, I’ve never been antisocial. Just, not in the same way as Steve. Steve’s not capable of having a casual acquaintance; he just doesn’t get the concept. He genuinely cares about everyone he meets. It’s like his heart is this big, hospitable place that just expands to envelop each new friend he makes. And when you’re his friend, when you’re Steve’s best friend like I was for so long, you feel like you’re the centre of the freaking universe._

_It’s the best feeling in the world, and yet sometimes it’s terrifying. I used to imagine I could feel Steve’s attention as a physical warmth, leaving me cold and incomplete the second it was focused elsewhere. I’d never had a friend who understood me as well as Steve, or who was so upfront about his loyalty to me. And if that makes it sound like we were making hot gay eyes at each other from the start then I’m not explaining this properly. All that came much later._

_My childhood was such that I had no loving relationship with my family, no siblings and no friends from home that I would bother staying in contact with when I went to college. What I did have was a first rate education, charm as a defensive technique and an instinct for self-preservation. That meant talking the talk, walking the walk, but never letting anyone get past my carefully constructed barriers._

_From the time Steve literally bumped into me on his way into the lecture theatre I was exiting, spilling pulpy orange juice all over my favourite Calvin Klein t-shirt, he made it his mission to break down those barriers. Steve knew that I was more than the rich kid who could charm girls into bed with a ripple of pecs and a flutter of eyelashes. He became my family, in ways that run deeper than blood._

_Steve always reassured me that nothing could ever come between us. I went out of my way to prove him wrong._

_I wish, almost more than anything, that there was some way to make that up to him before I die._


	6. 2019: Syracuse

**2019**

Steve had only been to the Barneses home once before in all his years of friendship with Bucky. 

The first year of college, Steve was appalled at Bucky’s decision to spend the holidays alone in his dorm and invited Bucky to Thanksgiving dinner at his family home. After that, it became normal for Bucky to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with Steve’s family every year. Steve’s family was pretty much the antithesis of everything George and Olivia Barnes stood for. The Rogers family was over-loud, over-enthusiastic and outspoken, and they took Bucky into the family wholeheartedly, teasing and arguing with him as if he was just another member of the big Irish brood. Bucky, with his charm and easy grace, slid right on in. 

Bucky was an only child and he definitely had the tendency to be a bit of a loner. Holidays with Steve’s parents, as well as the close-knit and loving crush of aunts, uncles and cousins, definitely didn’t leave any room for that. By the end of college, Sarah and Joe Rogers were as likely to call Bucky up to impart family news as they were Steve. 

It was the fall after they graduated college when Steve met Peggy; five foot six inches of gutsy attitude, red lipstick and the most amazing laugh Steve had ever heard. Steve was head over heels from the first time he laid eyes on her. 

When Peggy agreed to marry Steve, she’d joked that his parents wouldn’t want to swap her with the awesome son-in-law Steve had already given them in Bucky. Steve had laughed and told her there was room for all of them, the Rogers family was like the mob: once you were in you could never get out. 

It didn’t seem so funny now. 

Steve had never told his parents the truth about what happened with Bucky, but he knew they hurt for him anyway, and he also knew they’d missed Bucky’s and Allie’s place in their family these past years. He wondered if Bucky had ever reached out to them. He wondered if he’d kept in touch with Peggy.

Steve had to set aside that unhealthy train of thought as he heard footsteps approaching behind the ostentatious double door entrance to the Barnes residence. He was half-surprised when Bucky’s step-mother answered the door herself, instead of sending a maid. Olivia Barnes was a vision in Chanel and diamonds. Her makeup looked expensive and she had applied enough hairspray to her neatly set curls that Steve could smell the acrid tang wafting off her. It didn’t mix well with the sherry on her breath, at all of ten o’clock in the morning. 

‘Can I help you?’ Olivia asked, looking blankly at Steve, although she had met him on at least three separate occasions. To be fair, Steve supposed the last occasion may have been Bucky’s graduation ceremony, over six years ago now. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and pasted a friendly smile on. 

‘Hi Mrs Barnes, I’m Steve Rogers. Do you remember me? I’m Bucky’s friend.’ Olivia arched one perfectly plucked brow and Steve remembered that, unlike everyone else in the world, George and Olivia didn’t call Bucky his preferred nickname, the shortened version of his middle name Buchanan. ‘I’m sorry,’ he amended quickly. ‘James’ friend.’

‘Oh,’ Olivia said, faintly. ‘Yes. Of course, Steve.’ She paused for a moment, no doubt taking in Steve’s ripped jeans, plain tee shirt and baseball cap, which were likely more suited to her pool boy than a visitor in her home. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’

It was obvious he was not going to be invited inside, so Steve tried again.

‘I’m here to see Allie. Allison, uh, James’s daughter.’ 

‘I see.’ Olivia’s tone was disapproving. She sighed, the put upon sigh of one surrounded by idiots. ‘I’m sorry for your wasted journey, Steve, but Allison isn’t receiving visitors today.’ 

‘I’m sorry?’ Steve said, incredulous. What five year old didn’t receive visitors?

‘Allison has been having some behavioural problems,’ Olivia explained, curtly. ‘She is being disciplined at the moment with a time out. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask that you leave now, Steve.’

Steve felt all the emotional turmoil of the past thirty-six hours boiling to a crescendo in his blood, catalysed by his sudden fear for Allie. 

‘Look, Olivia,’ he said, using the full advantage of his height and build to loom over the lady in a way he rarely did. ‘We both know that discipline in your house has been known to get a bit out of hand in the past. I’ve driven a long way to see Allie and I’m not going anywhere until I’ve seen with my own two eyes that she’s well, so I can in good conscience report that back to her father.’ 

‘You...How dare you!’ Olivia spluttered. ‘I’ll call the police and you removed from my property.’ 

‘Fine,’ Steve spat at her. ‘Do that. Actually, it’s a great idea. I’ll explain to them why I feel the need to check on Allie. The cops will probably want to talk to her themselves, but as long as you’re comfortable with that. I’m sure the neighbours would love the entertainment.’ 

Olivia glared, but Steve noticed with relief she wasn’t reaching for the phone. Then the fight seemed to go out of her, and Olivia looked once again like the poised, perfect society wife Dallas knew her to be. 

‘For heaven’s sake,’ she murmured, smoothing her skirt down and shaking her head like Steve had been making a fuss over nothing. ‘This is ridiculous. If you want to see that naughty little girl, be my guest.’ 

Steve followed Olivia up the spiral staircase from the foyer, down an airy corridor and into the west wing of the house. Olivia gestured to a heavy wooden door and promptly turned on her heel, leaving Steve alone. 

Tentatively, Steve pushed the door open. It led into a huge bedroom, all cream walls and cream carpet, richly furnished with a huge four poster bed and a wardrobe, dresser and chest all in dark cherry wood. At first glance, Steve couldn’t see anybody in there, but then a tiny movement from the far side of the bed caught his eye. 

Allie was curled up against the wall with her knees hugged right up to her chest, but she looked up when Steve moved slowly into the room.

‘Hey, Alligator,’ Steve said, very gently, not wanting to startle her. The old nickname that only he had called her rolled off his tongue automatically, faced with those beautiful big green eyes. Allie’s hair was darkened from lack of washing and the cute yellow check dress she wore looked dirty. Her lip quivered, and she needed her nose wiping. Dried tear tracks stained her cheeks. She stared at Steve uncomprehendingly and for an awful moment, Steve thought she might not remember him. She had only been three years old when he left, after all. 

‘Hey Allie,’ he said again, trying to keep his tone soothing, as he crouched down in front of the tiny girl. ‘You remember me, right? I’m Steve.’

Finally, Allie sniffed and nodded at him.

‘Uncle Stevie.’ Except the way Allie said it, it sounded like ‘unca Stevie’, which was as unbearably cute to Steve as it always had been.

‘That’s right, sugar,’ he said. ‘How’re you doing there, sweetheart?’

‘Is Daddy here?’ Allie said, looking around hopefully as she sniffled. 

‘No,’ Steve told her gently. ‘I’m sorry Allie, Daddy isn’t here. He wishes he could be here with you now, but he can’t for a little while longer. So he asked me to come and see you instead.’

Allie’s little face crumpled.

‘I want Daddy,’ she wailed, plaintively.

‘I know, sweetheart.’ Steve tentatively reached out and smoothed his hand round one of Allie’s thin little elbows. Almost immediately, she uncurled herself from the defensive little ball she was in and launched herself into Steve’s arms. Instinctively he caught and held her tight, rubbing her back as her tiny body shook with sobs. 

Eventually, she had cried it all out, and Steve prised her out of his arms, getting just enough distance between them that he could look at her face again. Her eyes were puffy from the tears, but she seemed better for getting it all out. 

‘Can we go and see Daddy now?’ Allie asked hopefully.

‘I don’t know, Alligator,’ Steve started, fearful of setting her off again but unwilling to lie to Bucky’s daughter.

‘Do you have pancakes?’ Allie immediately asked, as if the two questions had roughly the same importance. Which, maybe they did, pancakes and Bucky both being necessities of life, and, boy, could Steve relate to that. ‘I’m hungry.’ 

She poked at Steve’s stubble-covered cheek, as if she expected him to produce a plate of pancakes from somewhere on his being. Steve supposed it was his own fault for cooking her too many pancakes as a child. In his defence, chocolate chip pancakes were about the only thing he’d been able to cook decently, before he’d moved to New York. His friend Sam had done wonders for his skills in the kitchen, since his horror at Steve’s take-out diet somehow transmuted into Tuesday night cooking lessons. 

‘Uncle Stevie, do you have pancakes?’ Allie pestered again.

‘Um, not right now,’ Steve said. ‘Haven’t you had breakfast?’

Allie’s shoulders immediately hunched in and her face dropped into an expression of misery. 

‘I was bad,’ she admitted to Steve in a whisper, like she was afraid he would be angry at her. ‘Nanny Livia’s angry cos I didn’t eat my dinner last night. So I have to eat it for breakfast. But s’gross,’ she said, pointing at a plate on her dresser. When Steve moved to examine it, he saw the congealed remains of last night’s meat stew for himself, and something inside him snapped.

That was just…it.

Forcing himself to smile, Steve turned to Allie. 

‘You’re right, that does look gross,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have any pancakes, Alligator, but I’ve got candy in the car, and we can get you some pancakes for lunch, how does that sound?’

Allie brightened at the sound of candy, then looked at Steve doubtfully.

‘Daddy said I had to stay here ‘til he comes t’get me,’ she pointed out. The kid was smart, and Steve nodded as he crouched back down in front of her again. 

‘That’s right, and you should always do what Daddy tells you,’ Steve said, carefully, ‘but you know you can trust me, right Alligator?’

Allie nodded, eyes wide and solemn.

‘Well, we’re going to get some pancakes on the way to see Daddy, okay Allie?’

‘T’see Daddy?’ Allie repeated, excited as all heck as she bounced up and down, using Steve’s knees as a springboard for her hands.

‘Yeah, kiddo,’ Steve said, blinking back tears as the five-year-old threw herself into his arms again. ‘To see Daddy.’ 

His mind was made up. There was no way he was leaving Allie in this house a day longer, and Olivia Barnes could go fuck herself if she had a problem with that.  



	7. Bucky - two

**Bucky**

_I liked Peggy from the start._

_I liked her wicked sense of humour; I liked her gumption; I liked her obsessive need for mushroom pizza when we were all drunk off our asses at three in the morning. Most of all, I liked how in love she was with Steve._

_For all that he was buddy to the world and his wife, Steve was always a little slow off the mark when it came to women. Flirting came as easily as breathing to me, but Steve was too sincere for all that nonsense. With eyes a shade lighter than navy blue, strong, beautiful features and dark blonde hair just the perfect length for tugging on, Steve could have had a different lover in his bed each night. The fact that you could cut glass on his abs certainly didn’t hurt. I could work out 24hours a day and not look as good as Steve did naked. Truth is though, Steve may have looked like an Olympian athlete, but inside he was every inch a head-in-the-clouds ink-on-his-fingers artist. A painter. A writer. A poet. He was too honest, too earnest, too hard to impress for a lot of girls._

_Not Peggy. She was head over heels for Steve’s utter lack of guile. She wasn’t the first serious girlfriend Steve had, but she was the first that Steve looked at like he’d just discovered his reason for breathing._

_Even apart from that, it was easy to like Peggy. She was a trainee veterinary surgeon, because she loved animals and she wanted to make a difference. She was an adrenaline junkie, always looking for the next crazy thing: bungee jumping, extreme rock climbing, parachuting out of an aeroplane at 4000ft to raise money for a women’s shelter. She was kind most of the time, but bitchy enough for me to trust._

_Peggy was gorgeous, sure, and I liked her from the start. I never wanted her for myself though. She was always Steve’s girl, and the thought wouldn’t have occurred to me. Stevie and Peg were together for a year before they got engaged, and nearly a full year after that, and in that time she became my best friend next to Steve._

_It was easy for me, the way Peggy slotted into the life and Steve and I had, rather than wrenching him out of it. She wasn’t possessive, never jealous of his time or affection._

_‘Bucky, darling,’ I remember her saying, one night shortly after she agreed to marry Steve. His great-grandmother’s diamond ring was sparkling on Peg’s finger. ‘There’s something I want to talk to you about. Something I haven’t even told Steve yet.’_

_We were on the couch at her and Steve’s apartment, waiting for Steve to get back from visiting an aunt in Wichita. They’d been living together in this rustic schoolhouse conversion for nearly four months, though Steve was as often lounging around in the den at my house as I was cluttering up the living room at theirs, and either Peg or I cooked dinner for all three of us in my kitchen at least twice a week. Obviously, we weren’t stupid enough to let Steve anywhere near the stove._

_‘Go on,’ I said, intrigued._

_‘You know I’m nearly at the end of my training - I’ll be qualified by March,’ she said, swinging round on the couch to face me and hugging her knees up to her chest. When I nodded, she continued._

_‘I was wondering, after the wedding… There’s this project,’ she said, her eyes shining like they always did when she got enthusiastic about something. ‘It’s a great opportunity for someone like me. A chance at working with large animals, endangered species even, learning on the job and interning with a specialist veterinary team. I could really make a difference.’_

_‘Sounds wonderful,’ I said, truthfully, and she bit her lip._

_‘Yeah. Only thing is, it’s in Africa.’_

_‘Oh.’ I didn’t know quite how to respond, and Peggy was looking at me like she expected something._

_‘I was thinking,’ she said, almost cautiously, ‘that it might be fantastic for Steve too. He’s always looking for the next story to get his teeth into, and he’s passionate about environmental causes. I bet there’d be a whole bunch of publications that would pay for the articles he could write, if he travelled with the team. He’d have a front row seat to some of the most prolific animal rights activists and conservationists in the field.’_

_‘Yeah,’ I said, smiling with effort, ‘you should definitely ask him. It sounds like his kind of thing. He’s getting kind of bored of writing pieces on vegetable growing competitions and high school pep rallies, right?’_

_‘Right,’ Peggy echoed softly. She was still searching my face for something, and old instincts had me throwing on a devil-may-care smirk and stretching back on the sofa, affecting diffidence. ‘So, you think it’s a good idea?’ Peggy pressed me. ‘I mean, not until after the wedding, and it would only be for a year.’ She laughed, soft but genuine. ‘I don’t think either of us could stand to be away from you for more than that anyway, and you could always visit for a holiday or something.’_

_‘Sounds awesome,’ I lied, scratching my stomach with deliberate, careful movements._

_‘So, you’ll tell Steve you think it’s a good idea, if he asks? Only, Bucky, you know how much he values your opinion.’ Right then, when Peggy looked at me, there was no bullshit between us and we both knew exactly what was and what wasn’t being said._

_‘Of course,’ I replied, because it was the only thing I could say and, besides, it was the truth._

_Peggy leaned over and hugged me, and said, ‘You know that I love you, right, Bucky? Really, I do.’ Then Steve came home and covered Peggy’s face with kisses, and it was all arguments about which takeout to order and who’d drunk the last Bud and whose turn it was to take the trash out._

_Since I’ve been sick, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the little moments that have made up my life, and that night crops up over and over again. My thoughts turn dark, and I wonder if the awful thing I did was partly to stop the future Peggy wanted from coming true. To keep Steve with me. Did I know when I was fucking Peggy against the door of my refrigerator a few months later that, however we tried to deal with it after, it was the beginning of the end for them as a pair?_

_I remember how great Steve and Peggy were together and I hate that I took all that away from them._

_My heart limps on, though, and I know I don’t regret it nearly enough._


End file.
